Simply Messing About In Boats
by Riyan
Summary: What really happened when Francis made a pass at Richard in the boat. A Secret History by Donna Tartt


Title: Simply Messing About in Boats

Author name: Riyan

Category: Romance/Drama

Keywords: Richard Francis

Rating: M

Summary: What really happened when Francis made a pass at Richard in the boat. A Secret History by Donna Tartt

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Donna Tartt, various publishers including but not limited to Penguin Books, Alfred A. Knopf, Inc and Viking. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: Starts after the lines: He'd made a subtle but unmistakable pass at me one afternoon when we were drunk and by ourselves in the rowboat. I'd dropped an oar, and in the confusion of retrieving it I felt his fingertips brush in a casual yet deliberate fashion along my cheek near the jawbone. I glanced up, startled, and our eyes met in that way that eyes will, and we were lost in each other for a moment, the boat wobbling around us and the lost oar forgotten. I was dreadfully flustered; embarrassed, I looked away; when suddenly, and to my great surprise, he burst out laughing at my distress.

On an entirely separate note: sorry I've been away for so long! Complete writer's block and overload of work! (physics coursework, chemistry coursework, biology coursework, yearbook stuff, birthday stuff... blah) I am working on my other stories, it may be another couple of weeks before they're up though. I've been working on this one for about 6 or so months and I finally snapped and finished it today while on a break from physics coursework. Anyhow, enjoy.

...Riyan...

* * *

"No?" he said. 

"No," I said. He nodded and I looked away. The oar was now safely back in the boat. "Actually," I said after a pause. "I don't know." He looked at me, his head cocked to the side, his pince-nez glittering. I had the urge to lean forward for a moment, but I held my ground and simply looked back at him instead.

"That's okay. You're not the only one who doesn't seem to know," he said turning his head away from me and stared across the lake at nothing in particular.

"Oh?"

"No," he shook his head and seemed to come back to the boat where we sat instead of wherever he'd been thinking about. He sighed and threw his head back to lean it on the side of the boat. The scarf around his neck fluttered in the slight breeze that had sprung up.

He sat like that for a while, eyes closed, head back, before sitting up and looking at me. I shifted slightly in my seat, eyes looking anywhere but at his face. I suddenly felt a hand on my knee. I looked up sharply.

"Yes?" he asked, leaning in towards me. I didn't have time to reply before his lips were on mine. I attempted to push him away and the boat wobbled dangerously.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Ravishing you."

"Oh."

"May I?" he asked, as an afterthought.

"In the boat?" I asked. He shrugged.

"I was being spontaneous." We sat in awkward silence. His face was still very close to mine.

"But I'm not," I said.

"Have you ever tried it?"

"No."

"Then how would you know?" I shrugged. He leaned forward to kiss me again. I leaned back and the boat rocked precariously.

"Careful," I muttered as we reached to steady it. Instead of stabilising it, our movements only unsteadied the boat more and we fell clumsily into the water.

"Jesus," Francis said, spitting out a mouthful of water. "It's fucking freezing." I started to laugh out of the sheer absurdity of it. Francis stared at me for a moment then chuckled too.

"Come on," I said after I'd calmed down a bit. "Let's take the boat in."

After we'd pulled the boat into shore and left it upside down to dry out, we hurried to the house to dry off. I was shivering by this point and my bones were beginning to ache.

"I'm going for a bath," I said as we went inside, still shivering and smelling distinctly of pondweed.

"I'm going to get a stiff drink," he replied, wandering off in the direction of the kitchen. I stood there for a moment, staring at my feet, before hurrying upstairs.

Bunny was in the bath when I arrived, and sent me away. I sighed and traipsed back down the stairs.

Francis was on the veranda, knocking back whisky from a teacup. I sat down beside him and he handed me the teacup.

"Bunny's in the bath," I said.

"Playing with his little soldier?" Francis asked.

"I didn't ask." I took a large gulp of the whisky. It burned in a comforting way as it went down.

"Si puer cum puellula moraretur in cellula felix conunctio," Francis muttered.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Nothing." A small smile played around his mouth.

"What are you implying?" I asked. I understood enough of the Latin to get the gist of the sentence, but didn't know why he'd talked about a "puella". He said nothing, only smiled a little wider.

"Have you heard the latest scandal between Chris and my mother?" he asked, as though the rest of the conversation hadn't happened. I shook my head. "He got high and tried to run away with her pet Chihuahua. Now he's in rehab." I wasn't sure how to react.

"That's nice," I said, for lack of anything better to say. He snorted, and then pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He went to take one out before stopping and swearing quietly under his breath.

"Soaked through," he said, frowning. "Oh well." He drummed his hand on the arm of the chair. "I'm going to get more whisky," he said presently, picking up the now empty teacup. I followed him into the bar, for lack of anything else to do.

I went over to the cupboard and kneeled down to get my own mug. I felt him step up behind me. I grabbed a cup and stood up quickly. He cocked his head to the side, smiled, then took my mug and filled it. Nothing was said. It didn't have to be said.

He put the whisky bottle down on the counter, toasted me and then downed it. I did likewise and then the next thing I knew he was kissing me again. I could taste the whisky on his tongue. It burned, but in the reassuring way that whisky does. I put my mug down behind me and he pulled me closer towards him.

My head was buzzing from everything. His hands were all over my back, up my shirt. I was terrified someone would walk in. I tried to push him away but he was strong for his skinny frame.

"What if someone finds us?" I asked, pulling away just long enough to get my words out. He stopped.

"That's true. Shall we continue this upstairs?" I thought of saying no, but I was drunk, and I wasn't jaded enough yet to refuse. I followed him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. We saw nobody on the journey up to his room. Camilla, Charles and Henry were presumably still on their picnic and Bunny was still in the bathroom. I locked the door behind us. Bunny wouldn't be in the bath forever, and I was loath to hear what he might say about it. I had enough on my plate with his jibes about my family.

Matters furthered as soon as the lock clicked. I found myself up against the door, feeling distinctly clumsy next to his adroit hands which were now working their way down the buttons of my shirt.

I didn't want him to think I was passive, so I began to undo his belt buckle. My fingers were fumbling. I was nervous. I'd never done this with a man before.

"Relax," he whispered, and I shivered. My shirt was off now, and his belt was still the same as when I'd started. He reached down and casually undid it for me, before moving onto my own belt.

Soon we were on the bed, wearing only underwear and socks, the latter of which had been forgotten about. I was distinctly aware that I smelled of pondweed and that he still tasted of whisky. His pince-nez lay forgotten on the bedside table.

We were pressed together on the bed, both of us on our sides with our legs tangled. I could feel his excitement against me and as he kissed me, I felt myself respond. His hands were roaming my back again, inching ever lower towards the waistband of my underwear.

And then suddenly the underwear was gone and his hands were on me, stroking and teasing. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than what was happening right then. The rest of the world didn't matter. Only Francis and his hands and his body.

"You can be on top," he whispered suddenly and I frowned, confused. "Just trust me on this one. You don't want this," he pressed two fingers in between my buttocks, "if you've never had it before." I laughed nervously and nodded in agreement.

"I, uh, don't know how-" I started.

"-Shh, it's okay," he silenced me by putting a finger to my lips. "I'll help you." I nodded again and swallowed nervously. "For now just relax," he said and started to kiss me again. His hands were back on my erection now, skillfully rubbing it up and down. I felt myself moan into his mouth and the next thing I knew, his was wriggling beneath me, bringing his legs up to rest on my shoulders.

I wanted to ask what was going on, but he still had my cock in his hands, so I figured I would find out soon. My head was spinning and my breathing was coming in short, fast gasps. Before I could figure out what was happening, he positioned me above him and pulled me down into him.

I woke to the sound of a short rap on the door. Francis was climbing out the window, dressed in his sheet. I was exposed on the bed and very confused. Francis seeing that I was awake, motioned something to me before his head disappeared from sight. I sat up, cursed and lay back down again. My head was pounding and I felt sick. I groaned and rolled off the bed.

I put my underwear and pants on, but I didn't care about my shirt. My head was in too much pain and I still smelled of pondweed. I wanted to get back to my own room. I crawled over to the door and unlocked it. Henry was standing there.

"Richard," he said. He sounded surprised. "I didn't expect to see you here. Where's Francis?" I squinted at him in the darkness and shrugged my shoulders. He frowned for a moment and then turned to go.

I went back inside Francis' room to collect the rest of my clothes and closed the door behind me. I clambered back onto the bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. I started as I heard voices on the landing outside. Francis had apparently come back inside. I raised my head a few inches and surveyed the floor. His clothes were gone, so I assumed he must have taken them as he escaped through the window.

"Where were you?" Henry asked.

"Taking a midnight stroll," Francis replied.

"Are you mad?" Henry asked.

"Possibly," Francis said and laughed.

"You do know that Richard is in your room, don't you?"

"What? Oh, that's where he wandered off to. We were drinking earlier and he went to bed while I decided to take a stroll outside. I fell asleep under a tree…" Their voices faded away as they walked away, presumably downstairs.

I picked up the rest of my clothes and dressed my self clumsily before deciding to have a bath, to wash off the day's events. I was a bit in shock as well, and wanted to mull things over in the hot water.

Half crawling, half stumbling, I made my way to the bathroom. Bunny had long since abandoned it. His towel was in a pile by the door. Thankfully he had removed the rest of his belongings. I had often encountered dirty underwear on the floor after Bunny had been in the bath.

As the water slowly filled the tub, I thought back over what had happened. A knot formed in my stomach. I wasn't sure if what I was feeling was guilt or embarrassment. My thoughts were jumbled and my head still throbbed. I took my clothes back off and got into the bath even as it was filling. I rested my head on the back of the tub. The enamel was cold against my hair and made me shiver.

I pressed my legs down as flat as they would go and the water level raised slightly, warming a few more inches of my body. The pain in my head lessened slightly as I closed my eyes and concentrated solely on the warmth.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Who is it?" I groaned.

"It's me, Francis."

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"But I'm naked."

"So?" I closed my eyes and rubbed a hand across my brow. He had a point.

"Fine," I said reluctantly. "Come in." The door opened and I looked up to see him enter, holding a mug. "What's in the mug?" I asked.

"What do you think?" Francis asked. A smile played about his face. "It's whisky." I groaned at the thought and ran my hands through my wet hair.

"I don't think I ever want to see that stuff again," I said and Francis laughed.

"That's a lie and you know it, Richard." He sat down on the chair in the corner and took a drink from his mug. "So what did you think?" he asked after a moment. "Are you still a no?" He cocked his head to the side and surveyed me. I thought about it for a moment, frowning as I tried to think through the pounding headache.

"I think I'm still an I don't know," I said and he nodded.

"One of them then. Fair enough." He stood up and walked to the door. When he reached it he turned around. "I'm always around if you want to." And with that he left the room, leaving me to contend with my headache and confusion.

Fin.


End file.
